So, at the official beginning of this fic, there's an important disclaimer to be made. There's no easy way of saying this, so I'm just gonna come right out with it: I know nothing about surfing. I seriously don't. Which is... less than ideal when your main character is an avid surfer, but there you have it. I tried to do my research but I'm bound to make mistakes, so if you actually surf and you see something that's REALLY off... please tell me? And if you're like me and know nothing about surfing, just enjoy and please don't use this fic as a trustworthy source :D.
I'd also like to take a moment to thank a couple of people. Both stjimmyjazz and orangegirl22 have helped me a lot to get some grip on how auditions/agents/acting works, which may not feature that heavily but is still quite important to the plot (spoilers!). Shoutout to Sleevedhearts for cheering me on and assuring me that yes, the story was worth a read, a massive thank you to all0fthedrugs for her excellent beta-work and to-the-point comments and suggestions, and finally all of the above for theonelucille, who you all have to thank for this story even seeing the light of day (seriously). Also, Kurt's clothes. So go give them some love on their respective tumblrs, but first, meet Sebastian!
Once the decision has been made, things move fast. Kurt still has two auditions planned -one open call for an off-Broadway run of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof and another one his agent had set up for him- but once those are done he books the cheapest flight to LA he can find and starts packing, trying not to think too much about what he's doing. Because Mercedes is right: he does need a break, and he's never had less to lose. Even if this turns out to be a huge mistake it will -hopefully- only help him to be even more motivated to return to his Broadway dreams. After all, New York won't be going anywhere in his absence.
When he finally sets foot in LA it's a sunny Friday morning, and Kurt doesn't even care how big of a cliché it is: he feels like the city welcomes him. The feeling only gets better when his bag is the first to come out on the belt, and when Mercedes nearly runs him over, squealing about how happy she is he's there, there is not a trace of doubt in his mind when he tells her, with the biggest, broadest grin on his face: "Me too."
"Here, give me that bag," she orders, already directing him towards the exit. "My car's just outside. I was thinking we could go by the apartment first, I'm guessing you'll want to take a shower?"
"Oh god yes!" Kurt groans, and Mercedes laughs.
"I thought so. So - apartment, shower, and then we can get going!"
She winks in that way that tells Kurt she's planning something, and he sighs.
"Please tell me you're not taking me on one of those tourist sightseeing busses?"
"Of course not!" Mercedes says, visibly insulted, but then links her arm together with Kurt's, leaning in a little closer. "I've got something much better."
"Is it gonna take long?" Kurt asks, his suspicion only growing. "Not that I don't appreciate anything you've planned, but I kind of have a busy schedule ahead. I got to find a new agent, figure out how auditions work around here, figure out my SAG membership – I heard it shouldn't be a problem because I'm Equity, but I haven't paid off my fees yet so I don't actually know? I gotta find a job too, I used nearly all my savings to pay for the flight. And unpack, of course, I need to unpack. Oh god, I hate unpacking. I sent a couple things ahead, they haven't arrived yet have they?"
"No, they have not," Mercedes tells him with a pat on his arm. "And to answer your other questions: I have no idea. Anyway you can worry about guilds and unions later. Right now you and I are going on a little getaway."
"You're- Mercedes! I can't go on a getaway, I've got a career to start up!"
"Tut-tut-tut. Your career can wait until Monday."
Kurt glares at her.
"No, it can't."
"Yes, it can." Mercedes sighs, stopping them for a moment as she turns to look at Kurt. "Look, Kurt. I know you're here to try your luck in Hollywood, because you hope LA will give you better chances than New York did. But you're also here because you need a break. These last couple of months you've been stressing yourself out constantly – looking for auditions, getting auditions, practicing for auditions. Now Rachel might have let you get away with that, even encouraged you in it, but I'm not Rachel and I'm not gonna let you kill yourself over this. So here's what gonna happen. We're gonna go to our apartment, you're gonna take a shower, and then you're gonna pack a bag for two nights. Sam's having a goodbye party-"
"Wait, Sam?" Kurt interrupts, not sure if he heard right. "Sam Evans? Sam is in LA?"
"Actually he's in some little village near the coast about an hour's drive from here, he works there in some kind of surf bar or shop or whatever," Mercedes says impatiently. "I don't know, I don't actually see him that often but the point is, he's going to Australia for a year and he's having a goodbye party tomorrow. So, I booked us a room in a small B&B, and we're gonna go there and have ourselves a fun, relaxing beach outing. And then come Monday you can work on your career all you like, promise."
Kurt sighs.
"You're not gonna let me get out of this are you?"
"Nope," Mercedes says brightly, and despite himself Kurt finds himself smiling. After all, a few days relaxing at the beach does sound terribly tempting.
"All right," he gives in, and Mercedes whoops. "But I get to choose the music and you're helping me unpack when we get back."
"Deal," Mercedes beams. "Now come on, let's go. Ooh, this is gonna be so much fun!"
.
Once Kurt has agreed to put his fate for the weekend in Mercedes' hands, things go a lot smoother. He and Mercedes talk non-stop, exchanging celebrity and other gossip throughout the ride home, the shower, the overnight bag packing, and the trip to the hotel. It's a small B&B and even if they don't have an ocean view -they're both still struggling artists, after all- their beds are the softest Kurt has slept in for years, which makes up for a lot.
They still have time to go for a walk before they have dinner, and with every step they take Kurt can feel the stress and worry of the past couple of months oozing away. He's not sure whether it's the salt in the air or Mercedes' company, but less than three hours into his first holiday in years he's already swearing expensive oaths to never go this long without a holiday ever again. The delicious grilled trout with garlic they are served in a tiny restaurant just two blocks away from the hotel definitely helps strengthen that resolve, as does the fact that he's fast asleep before the clock even strikes eleven.
The following morning Kurt wakes up before the sun has even risen -courtesy of his jet lag, no doubt- and he carefully slips out of bed so as to not wake Mercedes up. He plays around on his phone for a while, replying to his dad and Rachel's worried inquiries as to his well-being he hadn't felt like answering the night before, before he decides to head out for a run. Breakfast isn't for another hour, and if there's one thing he's learned at NYADA it's that holidays or no holidays, an actor should always -always- be in perfect shape. And so he quickly, quietly, takes out his running clothes and puts on his running shoes, and sets out into the early morning.
It's already warm out. Not hot, and certainly not sweltering like it had been the day before - not yet, at least, because the air simmers, vibrating with the promise of another bright and summery Californian day. The air is different here than it is in New York, and Kurt closes his eyes for a moment as he takes a deep breath. There's a sort of spiciness in the air that's unfamiliar to him, a body and a scent that is profoundly different from what he's used to, and he can't quite decide whether he likes it or not. He knows he's supposed to embrace this -the palm trees waving softly in the soft morning breeze, the empty beach stretching out as far as he can see- and he did yesterday. Right now, however, it only makes him miss home more. Because he likes the buildings and the skyscrapers of New York, grey and bland and unforgiving as they are, likes the constant rumble of traffic and the smell of hotdogs that greets him every time he leaves his building. No matter how many times it has disappointed him, New York is still his city, and he knows that he'll always return there. It's a strangely comforting thought, and he finishes his stretching routine with a smile on his face.
There aren't too many people out yet, with the exception of a few other joggers and a couple of surfers. Locals, Kurt guesses, who are enjoying their tourist-free beach for as long as it lasts before they have to leave for their respective jobs. Right in front of him there's a small group of three surfers out on the water, and he chuckles when one of them overbalances and falls butt-first in the water. The laughter of the two others, a guy and a girl, reaches him over the soft rumble of the ocean, and he smiles when the guy takes the next wave, making a show of repeating the first girl's move and finishing it smoothly. Kurt has never cared much for surfing -he prefers his hair salt-free, thank you very much-, but the way the guy's body moves, his black-and-blue wetsuit clinging to his body and drawing attention to all the right places, makes it look… graceful, almost, and for just a second Kurt considers to interrupt his run and just watch for a little.
He doesn't, continuing for another twenty minutes or so before he turns back. Running along the beach certainly beats running in a gym, he can admit that much, even if it is incredibly more tiring. But he enjoys the way the sand sinks a little each time his feet hit the ground, forcing him to focus on the way he rolls his feet, and by the time he makes it back to the pier where he started almost an hour earlier and begins his cooling-down stretching routine, he feels both more exhausted and more relaxed than he has in ages.
"Dayum!"
Kurt's head snaps up from where he's been bent over stretching his leg, and his breath hitches. Not just because the guy that just catcalled him is hot -although he undoubtedly is- but because Kurt actually recognizes him. Or rather, he recognizes the black-and-blue wetsuit that's hanging down from the guy's hips, offering Kurt a wonderful view on a set of well-defined abs: it's the same guy that had been showing off on the waves a little earlier.
Abs or no abs, though, Kurt has never appreciated being catcalled, and he's not going to make an exception just because the caller in question happens to have a perfect six-pack and endless, muscular arms that make Kurt's thoughts wander into all kinds of directions, none of which are, unfortunately, appropriate for the situation at hand.
"Seriously?" he asks, making sure the indignation in his voice is clear. "All the pick up lines in the world and you go with 'dayum'? Color me severely disappointed - I thought you surfers had a reputation to uphold?"
"What can I say?" the guy grins, opening his arms apologetically, although the twinkle in his bright green eyes makes Kurt doubt the sincerity of the gesture. "Seeing that ass of yours just rendered me speechless."
"Well, next time you see something that makes you speechless, I suggest you actually don't speak," Kurt snaps back. The guy just laughs.
"To be honest I'm more of an 'if you like it you should go for it' kind of guy, but thanks for the advice."
He winks and gives Kurt a final once-over and then he's gone, leaving Kurt with his indignation and a quite enjoyable view of the guy's back muscles. It's infuriating, really, and Kurt quickly decides it's just not worth his time. He's going to finish stretching, get back to the hotel, have breakfast with Mercedes, and then they can lament the lack of class of the average surfer population together.
And that is exactly what happens.
Well, except for the 'lamenting the lack of class' part, because for some reason Mercedes feels that teasing him for being hit on by a surfer is infinitely funnier than actually making fun of the stupidity of said surfer himself. Still, they're both in a good mood when they head out into town after breakfast. Sam has sent Mercedes a text to say he's working the morning shift, and they decide to go say hello before they go shopping, both so they'll know where to be later that day and because it's unlikely they'll be able to catch up much at the goodbye party itself.
The bar where Sam works is called Bord'eaux, but the credit Kurt had mentally given the owner upon first hearing the name quickly disappears when he sees it painted in big, bright lettering on an old surfboard hanging over the entrance. He elbows Mercedes, nodding at the sign, and together they sigh and shake their heads. Some people just have no sense of originality…
As it turns out though, Bord'eaux isn't just a bar: it's a surf shop too. The bar on the left and the shop on the right each have their own entrance, but inside both businesses blend together almost seamlessly. Surfboards cover most of the walls, posters of -Kurt presumes- famous surfers and postcards from exotic surfing destinations fill up the gaps, and a too-large flatscreen tv hanging in the back corner is displaying what appears to be detailed surfing conditions for every mile of the Californian coast. All the way at the back, spanning almost the entire width of the room, is a large wooden counter which appears to serve both as a bar and a cash desk, as if there's really no difference between buying a beer and buying a wetsuit, because after all it's a surfer's beer and a surfer's wetsuit and it's all part of a surfer's life. Every square inch of the place breathes surfing -even the coat hangers are made from old surfboard fins- and Kurt wonders how it is possible to stay in this place for more than four hours and not get sick of surfing.
There's one customer in the shop, going through a rack of short-sleeved shirts, but the bar is empty except for Sam, who is washing glasses behind the counter.
"Mercedes! Kurt!" he exclaims as soon as he catches sight of them, setting aside the glasses and drying his hands to come out and meet them. "I can't believe you guys actually made it! Especially you, Kurt, it's been... how long has it been?"
"A long time," Kurt smiles as he lets Sam wrap his arms around him. "You're looking good."
"I know," Sam grins, puffing up his chest and dragging his hands down along it, showing off his muscles in the process. He's wearing nothing but board shorts, and when Mercedes shoots Kurt an amused look Kurt can't help but smile along with her - some things really do never change.
"Sammy, could you give me a hand here I'm- well, hello again."
It's him. That guy. The one who had been showing off that morning, who'd checked out Kurt's ass and called it 'dayum'. It's him and he's standing in the middle of the shop, bright green eyes fixed on Kurt as if he's a particularly juicy piece of turkey. His short, brown hair is still a little wet from a recent shower and styled haphazardly in that messy but terribly attractive just-out-of-bed kind of way, and it's only because the wetsuit he's currently wearing is actually covering his upper body -and is slightly less formfitting than the one he had on earlier that morning- that Kurt manages not to stare at him.
"Hey Goof!" Sam calls out, apparently unaware of the sudden tension in the room. "These are my friends, Kurt and Mercedes. Remember I told you they'd come? Guys, meet Goof, my b-"
"Yes, thank you, Sammy," Goof, interrupts him, stretching out his hand towards Mercedes first. "Very nice to meet you, beautiful," he croons, and Mercedes giggles like a teenager with a crush when he lifts her hand and presses a kiss on it. "And you..." he continues as he turns towards Kurt. "Nice to finally be able to put a name to the... face."
The way he glances at Mercedes makes it clear that's not what he originally intended to say, and so when he tries to lift Kurt's hand to repeat the hand kiss Kurt demonstratively refuses to let him, keeping his hand down. Fortunately Goof doesn't push it, smoothly lets go of Kurt's hand as if a simple shake had been the plan all along, and Kurt's sure neither Mercedes nor Sam are none the wiser of what just happened between them.
"Goof," he acknowledges with a short head nod. Figured that the guy would go by a stupid nickname instead of his actual name. "I'm not even sure why I'm surprised."
"Oh, I think you'll find I'm full of surprises," Goof smiles mischievously, causing Kurt to roll his eyes, and this time Sam finally seems to notice there's something going on between them.
"You guys know each other?" he asks, glancing between the two men.
"Unfortunately."
"Not as well as I'd like."
They've both spoken at the same time, and there's a beat before, much to Kurt's surprise, Goof starts laughing.
"Honesty," he says, grinning at Kurt appreciatively. "I like that in a man. Now I would love to stay and chat, but I actually have somewhere important to be. Sammy - I've already unpacked the deliveries and set aside the orders, if you could please replenish the shelves before I get back?"
"Yeah, sure, whe-"
"Twelve at the latest, shoobies only paid for one hour and I got the Maddisons booked immediately after. But Mandy also got both shifts booked today which is why I really need you to do it, okay?"
"You can count on me, captain!"
It's one of Sam's more ridiculous impressions, complete with salute, but it's obviously not the first time he's done it because Goof just smiles and pats him on the back, and then, with a last wink at Kurt, he's out the back door.
"Is he always like that?" Kurt asks, and Sam shrugs.
"I guess? He's a good guy, but there's the bar and the shop and the classes... it can get pretty stressful round here."
"That's not what I mean," Kurt interrupts, making a vague hand gesture. "I was more talking about, the whole… flirting thing?"
"Oh!" Sam finally seems to catch on. "Nono, not at all! To be honest, he's usually a lot more aggressive. Love 'em and leave 'em, if you know what I mean. Seriously, not to gossip, but I've worked here less than a year and I'd need more than just my fingers and toes to count the number of guys I've seen stumbling out of his bedroom."
Sam's reply almost raises more questions than it answered, but Kurt tries to push them all from his mind. It's harder than he'd like admit though. Because abs.
"So is 'Goof' short for something or were you just making fun of him?"
"To be honest I'm not sure what his actual name is," Sam hesitates. "Something like Sheridan? Or Sebastian. Sullivan? Something with an S. And an 'an'. I don't know, he always just introduces himself as Goof."
"You mean he actually promotes it?" Kurt asks incredulously, and then shakes his head. "That only makes it worse."
"He's hot, though," Mercedes pipes up, and she doesn't even look contrite when Kurt shoots her a judging look. "Well, it's true! So was that...?"
"Yes," Kurt sighs. "Yes, it was." And then, as an added clarification to Sam, who's looking terribly confused: "Your… friend hit on me when I was stretching this morning. Called my ass 'dayum'."
He's not even surprised when Sam bursts out laughing.
"See?" he grins. "Now that's much more Goof's style. But look, I'd really love to keep chatting with you guys but... I got work waiting for me."
They say their goodbyes quickly, although Sam doesn't let them go before he's given each of them a couple chips they'll be able to get free drinks with later that night. They leave him to his work after that, and dedicate the rest of their day to shopping and enjoying the not-too-hot-not-too-cold weather. Kurt almost manages to not feeling guilty about taking holidays while really he should be looking for a job, but both times he tries to bring it up Mercedes immediately shuts him down, insisting that he's deserved a holiday and for once he should just listen to her and stop worrying.
And so, for once, he does.
They make it back to the hotel with two shopping bags each (all for Mercedes) and almost three hours to spare, more than enough time to have a quick meal and start preparing for the party. Kurt suspects the large majority of the partygoers will stick to board shorts and nothing else, and even if he's never minded standing out he tries to keep his own outfit simple. They are going to a party, after all, and there's little use in carefully arranging layer over layer when he's going to end up shedding them all because it's too hot to keep them on when he's dancing. As much as he hates to admit it: some moments are simply not as good an opportunity for fashion as others.
Still, when he finally emerges from the bathroom and makes a twirl to show off his outfit, Mercedes whistles appreciatively.
"Damn, boy, are you trying to impress someone?"
She says it neutrally enough, but still he knows exactly what she means.
"Don't you even dare," he warns her. "Don't you even dare implying what I think you're implying."
"Well, I'm not the one with painted-on pants," Mercedes teases, and Kurt sticks his chin in the air, only a little self conscious as he takes in his reflection in the large mirror behind their beds. The stretchy fabric of his bright blue capris indeed does accentuate the curve of his ass, but really, he's worn tighter pants than this, and he likes to think that the off-white button up dotted with palm trees adds a playful element. There's something missing though, and he stares in the mirror for a while before he reaches for his suitcase and pulls out a crinkled red scarf.
"Ah yes…" Mercedes nods thoughtfully as she watches him drape it around his neck. "Not trying to impress anyone at all."
Kurt glares at her.
"Oh come on, he's cute!" Mercedes tries again. "Plus he seemed to really like you."
"He called my ass 'dayum'," Kurt starts counting on his fingers, even if he's not sure who he's trying to convince. Because abs. "He works at a surf bar. He calls himself 'Goof' for christ's sake! He may be hot but he is so not boyfriend material."
"So you do think he's hot?"
"Not boyfriend material, 'Cedes!"
"Hey, who said anything about boyfriends?" Mercedes says innocently. "I bet you could have a lot of fun for a night..."
"Mercedes!"
"What?" Either Mercedes is actually oblivious to Kurt's shock, or she's a better actress than Kurt had given her credit for. "He likes you, you like him -don't even deny it-, this is the 21st century, people are allowed to have sex for fun now, you know?"
"Still not gonna happen," Kurt says determinedly, turning away from his friend and hoping she won't notice how the blush creeping up his cheeks has more to do with excitement than with embarrassment. "I'm not a one-night-stand kind of guy, you know that."
"Oh really? Because I seem to remember an occasion at Mr. Shue's first wedding when-"
"That was different!" Kurt immediately cuts her off. "Besides, you and I both know how that ended..." He closes his eyes, fruitlessly trying to keep the memories away. It had been even more painful breaking up with Blaine the second time. At least the first time he'd been able to blame Blaine, whereas the second time... "I won't let myself be pushed into a relationship, not now, not ever."
"Oh honey, I'm not pushing you into a relationship," Mercedes reassures him. "Just into a little fun."
She winks, and for all the frustration he's feeling Kurt can't help but smile back. He knows she doesn't mean any harm, and really, she is right about one thing...
"He really is hot though."
"Oh my god isn't he?" Mercedes swoons and throws herself back on the bed, and Kurt laughs. "Those shoulders, good lord, he even puts Sam to shame."
"And you should have seen him this morning," Kurt adds teasingly, climbing on the bed beside her. "He had this wetsuit on, a different one from what you saw him in: black with blue stripes, like flames licking up the sides of his body, and he'd taken off the top part so he was basically naked from the waist up and his abs were... delicious."
"Oh my god shut up!"
Mercedes groans, and they both burst out laughing. They still have half an hour to kill before they need to leave, and they haven't gossiped about boys like this in ages.
Yes, Kurt thinks as he listens to Mercedes' plights about not having a chance of registering on Goof's radar - no matter how much he misses New York, and regardless of whether or not his Hollywood career takes off, taking a break to come to LA might have been the best decision he's made in a while.